Question: What qualifies one to be a Jew both ethnically and religiously? Has it always been so? (From Jacob/Israel to now). The Old Testament (in part) uses a patriarchal (the male side) genealogy to substantiate parentage. Paul of Tarsus was considered a Jew , yet had a non-Jew parent [Editors note: this is not clear- the only source is apparently the Greek Scriptures, and Paul's writings which can be questioned. It is possible either that Paul's parents converted, or that Paul did. Tarsus was a very non-Jewish area]. I've read that a Jewish mother qualifies the children as Jewish for religious purposes. Please edify me as regards this topic.

The answer to the question you ask is actually fairly simple: a person is a Jew if their mother is Jewish, or if they undergo conversion via immersion in a mikvah if female, and immersion in a mikvah plus circumcision for the sake of conversion if male (if the man is already circumcised, there is a procedure called hatafat dam brit which draws a drop of blood instead). The prospective convert comes before a panel of rabbis who ask them questions, and then when they are satisfied, the person undergoes the procedures I mention above.
That is really all there is to it.

Reputable rabbis will also ask the prospective convert to undergo some period of learning prior to the beit din (the panel of rabbis) about what it means to be Jewish and what the person's obligations will be once they have converted, so that they know ahead of time what will be required of them for the rest of their life.
That said, this clearly has not always been the case historically speaking: it is clear that in the biblical era, being Jewish was passed along via the father: this is no longer the case. The reasons for this change are unclear (although heavily speculated upon), but also essentially irrelevant - Judaism is a rabbinic religion: we follow the laws of Judaism as explicated and interpreted by the rabbis.

Nevertheless, Judaism is opposed to intermarriage, and always has been.

There are certain beliefs which a Jew may not hold - for example, a Jew who professes belief in the divine Being taking material form would be considered a sinner by Judaism. In a family where one parent holds a belief that a Jewish person is not permitted to hold, it would be very difficult to teach that to one's children - indeed, it would be unfair to the non-Jewish parent. For "ethnic purposes" (as you say - I love your phrasing) the person would be Jewish, but for "religious purposes," -no. One cannot, for example, call to the Torah a person who is known to hold such a belief, although they remain fully Jewish. -It is a bit complicated in that sense.
If this person who had a Jewish mother was taught what it means to be Jewish and decided to affiliate themselves with the obligations and beliefs of Judaism, however, there is no need to convert - they are fully Jewish.

What we actually have here is a language problem, not a gender problem.

God does not have a body, the way people do, so God doens't have a gender. The prayer books and the TaNaKh reflect the fact that people use language to speak, and many languages are strongly gendered. English, unusually, is not a strongly gendered language, but Hebrew is, and both our prayer books and the TaNaKh reflect that they are translated from Hebrew - in which not only God gets a gender, but so do chairs, tables, body parts, food, pencils... you get the idea: everything in Hebrew is a "he" or "she" for the purposes of speaking, even though that's rather silly when you think about it. Hebrew, however, has no "it," so our choices are to either choose a gender to label God, or call God "God" everytime we refer to God.

Some people do this (I do it myself, sometimes, when I talk about God in English). It can be a bit clunky, though.

Sometimes, in English, I refer to God as "She." Many people find this a little shocking the first time that they hear it because they're not used to it. Sometimes, I alternate back and forth between "He" and "She" - I don't use "It" for God, even though it might be more accurate, because in English, "It" usually denotes something inanimate - a thing, like a chair- which would be disrespectful to God.

The great commentator Maimonides wrote that when we talk about God we have a problem, because our minds and languges are human, and thus limited. We, with our puny human brains, don't really understand God, so the best we could accurately do would be to say what God is not. So, for example, when we say that God is compassionate, what we really mean is that our limits allow us to understand that God is not cruel.

Our language is limited the same way: we may know that God isn't human, but we have trouble understnding it, so when we talk about God, we say "He" or "She," but the reality of God has nothing to do with being male or female - or any other characteristic of our limited human physical existence.

The mourner's kaddish is a custom that has come to play a very powerful role among Jews. It was once believed that saying the kaddish for a deceased person had the power to help raise their soul from gehenna - which is, in fact, why the rabbis mandated that one who says kaddish for their parents should only say so for 11 months, lest people believe that one's parents were sinners who needed extra help.

However, the actual text of the mourner's kaddish, when examined, reveals a prayer that is actually for the speaker, not the deceased. The mourner's kaddish, like all kaddishes, is a reminder of God's glory, and helps us turn our hearts to God despite the pain of loss. Saying kaddish is an act of piety and love for the speaker, and while it honors the deceased for their offspring to say it, it means little coming from a stranger whose heart is not ruptured or distracted by grief from its connection to God.

For this reason, I would suggest that under most circumstances, it makes little sense to hire someone to say kaddish for a woman. Indeed, even some Orthodox rabbis (including the recently late, quite brilliant halachic mind, Rabbi Ovadia Yosef, ZTz"L) have stated that a woman may say kaddish for her deceased parents, merely noting that as in their communities, women do not form a minyan ( minimal unit of persons to say certain prayers) she must say kaddish with or in front of ten men.

Furthermore, the mourner's presence at the prayer services in the community is a wonderful way for her to receive support fromt the community, and for others in the community to know of her loss and help her in the time of her sorrow. Many, many people, have found that their regular presence at services during the period of mounring became an opportunity to become more knowedgeable and more deeply embedded in the community, and in the end, allowed them to be embraced by their friends and neighbors, and they sometimes even found that it enabled them to pass the blessing on for others who came after them, to help them mourn, and to return back to everyday life at the end of their mourning.

If the mourner is uncomfortable or unfamiliar with the Hebrew or the service, the best solution is to go to her rabbi or a knowedgeable layperson and have them help her - it is not a complicated prayer, and indeed, its rhythms are easy to learn.

Question: While I support tolerance, acceptance and unity for the Jewish people, I can’t help noticing that when I have visited the Kotel many times during morning hours, there does not appear to be even a minute base of women that want to pray in an egalitarian style minyan. At the same time there are thousands davening at the Kotel every morning peacefully, representing many threads of Judaism. Why all the commotion to create an area for egalitarian minyanim (prayer groups) on a regular basis at the Kotel, when there doesn’t appear to be the numbers to justify using very limited prime real estate for this purpose? My question is more about the need to accommodate a very small specific group for a once a month event. Wouldn’t it be great to see thousands of Jews show up at the Kotel every morning demanding an egalitarian style minyan? That would show a different level of seriousness to the Women of the Wall (WOW) cause. But, as of now, that doesn’t appear to be the case. Wishing for peace and unity for the Jewish people, I want to know what this is really about.

Indeed, it would be a wonderful thing for thousands of Jews to show up at the kotel every morning for egalitarian davenning. I would however, gently point out, that Women of the Wall does not acutally advocate for such a thing. Women of the Wall is actually a single-sex group - women only- who wish to daven as a group, read Torah and so on. WoW does have male supporters - whose davenning happens separately from that of WoW, and whose role is largely to stand by and protect the women while they are davenning, from things like soiled diapers, eggs, and chairs -and even direct physical assault- that are regularly directed at the women gathered there to pray. Keep in mind, that except for one month, when they were specifically ordered to do so, the soldiers there do not protect the women.

Perhaps this slightly fuller picture may offer a glimpse of why it might be difficult to bring WoW to the wall to pray daily. It takes a certain amount of courage to face down those who gather to taunt and harm them while they are praising God. It would be difficult to gather those people every day to do so, against the violence waiting for them. For most women who pray daily, it's simply far less difficult to go to one of the places where it is safe to do so.

So why not do so on Rosh Chodesh then? Is the Western Wall an ultra-Orthodox synagogue (I say ultra-Orthodox, because even according to both traditional sources and to the interpretation given to them by many of the Orthodox, there is no prohibition on women praying in groups, wearing tallitot or tefillin, or reading Torah; it is a political and social prohibition by the ultra-Orthodox, not a religious one), or is it a national landmark, a place for all Jews? What is this really about? Sadly, what it is really about is whether one group can caim to be the only true form of Judaism and enforce that in a public arena.

Question: Are extremists on both sides (left and right) of the Woman of the Wall ordeal going too far to push their agendas? It seems like most Israelis would prefer peace and unity when it comes to personal praying at the Kotel.

“When the daughters of Tselofekhad heard that the land of Israel was to be apportioned to the tribes in accordance with the men and not by women, they gathered together to take counsel. One said to the other: The Omnipresent’s compassion is not like that of flesh and blood. Flesh-and-blood creatures have greater compassion for males than for females. But the One who spoke and the world came into being is not like that. Rather, His mercy extends to all, to the males and to the females, as it is said [Ps. 145:9]: ‘The Lord is good to all, and his mercy is upon all His works’” (Sifrei [ed. Buber], 133).

The phrasing of the question is a bit unfortunate in assuming that there are “extremists” on both the “left and the “right.” The facts reveal otherwise.

Women of the Wall have gathered peacefully at the Western Wall (also known as the Kotel) since 1988, once a month, to pray in tallit and tefillin and read Torah. This is the extent of their extremism.

It is only one side that has demonstrated extremism – some ultra-orthodox Jews have expressed their objection to women wearing tallit and tefillin ( a practice traditionally permitted by Jewish law, by the way. The only debate was over whether or not the women should say a blessing when doing so) and reading torah (a practice explicitly permitted in Jewish law by the Talmud, which only exempts women on the basis that if women read torah in front of a mixed group, someone might make the assumption that there were no men capable of doing so. Since that is no longer the case, there is no reason to exempt women. There was never any prohibition against women reading Torah even for men, let alone in women-only groups.) by assaulting them, throwing trash and sewage at them, and yelling epithets at them.

The women of the wall have only one agenda: to pray at the wall according to their own custom. One would think that at a national monument, there would be no question of this. In fact, if one looks at pictures of the Kotel prior to 1967, there wasn’t even any separation of men and women– I was amused more than once, strolling through meah shearim, to see puzzles being sold at ultra-orthodox stores in which an old picture of the Kotel was displayed as the image – and if you look carefully at it, you can see women and men, praying together, at the wall. But I digress. One would think that at a national landmark such as the Western Wall there would be no question of people of all kinds having equal access, but unfortunately, after 1967, the wall was treated as if it were an Orthodox synagogue and allowed to be administrated by those who used it for *their* own agendas.

Would Israelis prefer peace and unity at the wall? Undoubtedly. But the question is how is that to be achieved?

In fact, many Israelis – nearly half of all Israelis, support women of the wall (as opposed to a significantly smaller number that do not). Unity cannot be achieved by oppressing, attacking or rejecting those who disagree with one. Peace cannot be achieved by ignoring the needs of some of the people. As a Jewish values question, the answer is clear: there is no halachic objection to women praying together with tallit and tefilling and to reading Torah at the wall.

There is however, enormous objection to attacking and vilifying other Jews.

One should not violate the laws of Shabbat in order to vote. In both the USA and in Australia (where your email appears to originate) when elections are held on a day that a person cannot vote, including for religious reasons, alternate arrangements are available. The Australian government website voting FAQ notes,

Early voting is available for electors who are unable to vote on election day. This includes electors who for religious reasons are unable to vote on Saturday 14 September 2013. The dates for early voting are to be confirmed but commence soon after the declaration of nominations for candidates standing in the election during the election period.

Postal and pre-poll voting: Electors who for various reasons cannot attend a polling place anywhere in the State or Territory for which they are enrolled on polling day can apply for a 'postal vote'. The AEC will then send them their ballot papers which must be posted back before polling day. Alternatively a 'pre-poll vote' can be cast in person at a pre-poll voting centre or divisional office in the lead up to polling day as soon as early voting becomes available. Early voting dates will be publicised.

In the US, as well, all 50 states and the District of Columbia allow either early voting, unconditional early voting, or absentee voting by mail.

Question: I would like to name my daughter Ava. My grandfather's (living) name is Avraham but his nickname is Ava. Would it be okay to name my daughter Ava if it's a variation of grandpa's name? (Ashkenazi tradition).
[See also the following questions already on Jewish Values Online: http://www.jewishvaluesonline.org/question.php?id=59, http://www.jewishvaluesonline.org/question.php?id=184, http://www.jewishvaluesonline.org/question.php?id=840.
Administrator]

First of all, B'sha'ah Tovah ( may the birth be at a good time) - may your daughter be healthy and grow to a life of Torah, chuppah and maasim tovim (good deeds).

The essential answer to the quastion you ask turns outto be a simple, "Yes."

The explanation is a little longer. There is no limitation in the Torah or talmud on naming your child after a living person - in fact, as you may know from your clarification that you're following Ashkenazi tradition, Sephardim consider it an honor to name a child after a living relative, and their custom is to do so.

The two reasons most important for not naming after a living relative in the Ashkenazi custom are -primarily, in my observation - the superstitious one: that naming after a living relative may cause a child to be taken by the angel of death rather than the elderly relative. The less well-known one is that according to halacha (Jewish law), since one ought not to belittle one's parents by calling them by their first name, naming a child after that grandparent or parent might cause the person to be dishonored by casual use of their name by a younger relative.

To satisfy the first matter, one need only avoid giving the exact same name ("Ava," rather than "Abraham," should be fine). To satisfy the second might be more problematic. Technically, your grandfather's name is not Ava, but if it is generally the name by which he is called, you may want to reconsider whether this will be a problem for the second point.

In that case, you might want to find a slightly different name, such as "Avigail" or something similar, and simply let your grandfather know that you're naming after him. However, if you wish, you may certainly name your daughter "Ava" and not be concerned, as it is a perfectly valid tradition in the Jewish world to name after a living relative.

Question: I would like to hear your take on the article in The New York Times (October 2, 2012, "Tattoos to Remember," by Katherine Schulten).
Livia Rebak was branded with the number 4559. Now her grandson, Daniel Philosof, has the same tattoo. At right, three men who stood in the same line in Auschwitz have nearly consecutive numbers.
.WHY did Eli Sagir get a tattoo with the number 157622 inked on her forearm?
WHY might this tattooing practice be unsettling or offensive to some?
WHY did people in the camps “treat with respect the numbers from 30,000 to 80,000,” according to Primo Levi?
About HOW many Holocaust survivors are still alive? etc.
Judaism, as the article mentions generally frowns on tattoos (and body piercing) as it alters G-d's image.
I will be using this lesson, for 8th and 9th graders. Others, in my school will be using it for 7th graders. Thanks.

This is a fascinating question – not because the rule about tattoos is unclear, but because the underlying meaning of those getting the tattoos is so very interesting.

The Torah states quite clearly in the book of Vayikra (Leviticus) Ch. 19, verse 28., “You shall not etch a tattoo on yourselves, I am God”. As with all translations, there is some interpretation involved, and one can find variations on this translation that I think you might find interesting. A very literal translation might be something like, “A marking/incision/gash for a soul/being you shall not place on your flesh/skin, nor shall you write a tattoo on yourselves, I am God.” The interesting part here being the doubled prohibition which both specifies a marking of the skin, or cutting oneself, as well as a component that specifies writing or drawing on the skin. The prohibition against tattoos is very clear. This includes all tattoos with the single exception of tattoos which are for medical purposes (such as guiding a surgeon where to cut during surgery).

Thus, there is no reason to distinguish between this kind of tattoo and what you call a “decorative” tattoo. In fact, one might consider such a tattoo as more stringently prohibited than a “decorative” tattoo, if anything. Why? If you recall, the prohibition is not merely against a tattoo, but is a doubled prohibition in which the first part of the prohibition specifically calls out against marking oneself “for a soul” – generally understood as a prohibition to mark oneself in memory of the dead. Later explanations of the law (the mishna and Talmud) clarify that the reason “I am God” is added at the end is to strengthen the prohibition, as tattoos are considered a form of idolatry.

It is not uncommon in some cultures to mark oneself after the death of a relative – to disfigure oneself in some way. In Judaism, it is not considered acceptable to do this. First, the body is not “ours,” but God’s. We are obliged to treat our bodies with care, and we are given our bodies to take pleasure in them in many ways (within the boundaries of Jewish law). But the human body is not ours to do with as we wish in all circumstances. We are expected to be moderate in our appetites, whether for food or sexual pleasure; we are expected to keep the body clean and healthy; we are required to exercise our minds and use our bodies in the service of the right and the good.

Secondly, marking oneself for another person raises up that person to an inappropriate level. It claims them to be more valuable than oneself. Marking oneself for also implies that the ones so being memorialized are nothing more than that body, and that in order for them to survive and be remembered beyond their death, we must literally inscribe them upon our bodies.

When one thinks through the reasoning behind getting a tattoo to memorialize the tortures that one’s family member – be it a parent, grandparent or whomever, it becomes clear that one needs to ask the question, “What , exactly, is being memorialized?”

The Nazis placed those numbers there to turn human beings into objects, to make them think of themselves as objects. But Judaism demands that we remember at all times that we are souls. In addition, as Jews, we have a purpose, and part of that purpose is expressed and fulfilled through our faithfulness to the obligations we were given as Jews.

It is honorable and touching to love one’s elders and to try to turn an attempt to shame and degrade them into a badge of honor. However, by deliberately tattooing oneself - contrary to Jewish law- instead of honoring them, one is harming the very thing that the survivor’s life represents, the thing that they were picked out for this treatment because of –their Judaism. Furthermore, it is indeed a kind of idolatry to memorialize a mark to the body as the central facet of that person’s life, more important than anything else they have done. Judaism rejects the idea that the body is perfection, or that it is the most important thing that we are, and instead asks us to look higher.

Traditionally, for Jews, gift giving is a rather limited affair. We have definite traditions associated with Purim and Passover (specifically to the poor, and on Purim gifts of food to friends, for example), as well as other holidays, and gifts to children as marks of affection, and as opportunities to teach them about our traditions. Birthdays were not traditionally celebrated by Jews (although whether it is permissible is debated, and rabbis have come down on both sides of the matter) at all.

That said, American Jews, who live in a secular society, have developed the habit of observing occasions such as birthdays with gifts. Given that reality, we should seek guidelines from the general approaches to human interaction which the Torah mandates: Minimally, we should be modest (tzniut) in our exchanges, not being extravagant and showing off our purchasing power - therefore, even if you are wealthy, showy gifts should be avoided (as should showy clothes, homes, or boastful speech).

Gifts to children and friends should be in the spirit of showing that you value them, rather than that you want to impress them. Finally, gifts to people one is dating should be chosen with care: even secular etiquette rules against giving gifts that are expensive or too personal, as it demonstrates a relationship which either one might not have with that person, or boasts of intimacy, or creates a sense of obligation. So much the more so should a person who lives a Jewish life avoid implying these things. If you value someone you are dating to the extent that you wish to provide them with extravagant or elaborate gifts, it is probably time to consider whether you want to live your life with them and build a home together.

Question: If a condo association requests a Jewish resident to remove their Mezuzah from the door frame. What takes precedence - following the law of the land (din de malchuta dina), or the mitzvah (obligation/commandment) in Jewish law to hang a mezuzah? Can regulations by property owners/managers be allowed to restrict Jewish religious expression?

Oh, yes, I remember this case. There was a little flurry of publicity about it, not too long ago.

The Jewish obligation is to post the mezuzah, as there is a clear commandment for us to do so. There is a concept of dina d’malchuta dina (the law of the land is the law), which states that as long as no Jewish law contradicts it directly, one is obligated to follow the laws of the land. However, this is not a case of dina d’malchuta dina since in fact, a condominium or tenant board is not the law of the land, and indeed there is a commandment to post a mezuzah, so that would not be relevant.

Although initially I had thought that given the general understanding that has prevailed of the first amendment1 (later extended to state and local governments, via the fourteenth amendment2) this would make a difficult court case for the tenant organization, in fact, it’s not so clear-cut how it would turn out. Actual court case outcomes seem to have been somewhat more mixed than one might expect. In the aughts there were a couple of legal battles (one in Illinois, and one in Texas) that went back and forth in the courts, but both ended up with the condo associations working something out with the resident, and in Illinois, Florida and Texas, the states passed laws to protect Jews from mezuzah bans. There was an attempt at a federal law, which didn’t pass.

Nevertheless, at the very least, it seems unlikely that a condo could get very far without a lot of bad publicity, and certainly although in some cases courts ruled against the tenants, eventually in all the cases, the tenants eventually either won, or worked something out with the tenant organizations.

That being the case, in her place, I would suggest trying to explain to the condo association that it is a religious obligation and not optional. Unless there are other, underlying disagreements (such as a feud with a neighbor, or perhaps someone on the board), it seems likely that something can be worked out.

I suspect you may also be interested in the larger question - what if this had been a case where a Jew was coming up against an actual law. I would like to give you a good general answer, but un/happily (depending on whether you like complicated or not; I do, but not everyone does) one would have to present this on a case by case basis with a rabbi knowledgeable about halacha (Jewish law). The general rule is that when the Torah commands us, we are obligated, but the specifics of a given case might offer alternatives that allow some sort of compromise, or one might discover that in fact, what they had thought was an obligation turned out only to be a custom, or any number of other possibilities.

1“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

2 “All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside. No state shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.”

Question: There’s always so much negativity in the news about Israel. And the good news often gets buried. Do influential Jews—bloggers, journalists, religious leaders—have an obligation to spread the word about positive developments coming out of Israel, in order to shed some positive light on Israel?

This is a complicated question: Many people have stated that it is the obligation of Jews in the diaspora to counter "bad PR" about Israel. The difficulty comes in when we consider what that "bad PR" is: a great deal of it is not "public relations" at all, but genuinely bad things that happen in Israel due to political decisions of the Israeli government, or sometimes crimes and violence committed by certain groups of Israelis for political reasons.

Since the great majority of the "bad news" has a factual basis, from a religious point of view there are two conflicting values: the first is that there is a principle based in the talmud that it is forbidden for one Jew to inform on another. Strictly speaking, the prohibition is to inform on individual Jews to a non-Jewish government, and there are exceptions to this rule even early on, such as that one who engages in conduct that endangers the community maybe informed on. In addition, there is some disagreement by modern commentators about how this applies in countries with a secular government which is not inherently oppressive of Jews.

There is a (for this matter, anyhow) somewhat related principle that one shouldn't commit a chillul haShem: in other words, one shouldn't cause others to think badly of the Jewish God. In terms of our current question, this principle has bent both ways. In one mindset, the idea has become that one should never say anything bad about one's fellow Jews, because it will cause others to think poorly of Judaism. However, the principle can also be faced the other direction; we'll see how in a bit.

Together, the two concepts have morphed from Jewish legal guidelines to a sort of folk idea of not creating a "shanda fer di goyim" -creating a shameful view of Jews to non-Jews.

However, a second concept that must be taken into account is that of the obligation to rebuke. The Torah (Lev. 19:17) commands us, " You shall not hate your brother in your heart: you shall surely rebuke your neighbor, and not bear sin because of him."

In the talmud, there is a wonderful passage explaining this verse which states: "Whoever can prevent their household from committing a sin but does not, is responsible for the sins of their household; whoever can prevent the people of their city, is responsible for the sins of their city; if the whole world, one is responsible for the sins of the whole world."

If Israel is doing bad things, then we are obligated to try to stop them.

Finally, there is a further consideration about what it means to speak publicly in the modern world. Not so long ago, it was possible to keep information under wraps, more or less. Today, that is simply impossible. Technology and social media have made information freely available. The idea that, somehow, failing to speak about bad things that are happening will keep people from knowing about them is hopelessly naive. The average high school student has constant access to all sorts of information, 24 hours a day. Moreover, simply trying to counter serious problems by talking about good things to "balance" them is absurd. Does a new iPhone app counterbalance spitting on an 8-year-old?

To solve problems we must necessarily make it clear that we are aware of these actions and object to them. At the same time, we shouldn't forget the first part of the verse in Leviticus, "You shall not hate your brother in your heart." Criticism must come from a place of love: we don't criticise to destroy, but to repair. However much it hurts, speaking out about extremism and violence is a necessary part of our relationship with Israel.

Trying to hide what's going on, either by not talking about it or by "countering" it with good news is more likely to be counterproductive than helpful. People already know what is going on. If we love Israel, then we are obligated to try and make sure that we do not hide the problems, but to the contrary, are very open that 1. we are working to try to fix these very real problems and do not regard them as things that we simply need to put a different spin on, and 2. that at the same time, we love Israel and care about Israel's people, who are our family.

By doing both of these things, we make it clear that Jews and Judaism are not monolithic; that we understand that there are problems that cannot be left to fester; that we also believe that these problems can be solved; that we believe that these problems should be solved peacefully and politically; that we are willing to put pressure on Israel to make the Israeli government act to address the problems, and that we fully support the continued existence of the state of Israel and that solving these problems is part of ensuring Israel's safety.

It's fine to talk about good developments that are coming out of Israel, and when it's appropriate we certainly should talk about them. At at the same time, we are doing no favors to Israel if we pretend that everything will be fine if nothing changes. Is it painful to have to admit that there is a geat deal that needs to be fixed in israel? Yes, it is. So I finish with a quote from the chasidic rabbi, Menachem Mendel of Kotsk: "The one who increases knowledge, increases pain (Kohelet 1:18). And what does this mean? It is worth it for a person to increase pain, provided that they increase knowledge as well."

Question: What is the Jewish view on ‘stewardship’? We are told that we were given dominion over the land and all within it – it seems that some have taken that to mean ownership and the right to destroy or waste. Is that the Jewish view?

In the very beginning of the Torah, in the very first chapter, we read a verse that seems to be permission for human beings to do whatever they wish with the world that we are given:

27. So God created man in His own image, in the image of God created He him; male and female He created them.

28. And God blessed them, and God said to them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.

But in the Torah, things are not always as simple as that. In Judaism, one of the primary underlying themes, is that God gave us Torah in order to help us master ourselves. It is thus worth noticing that in the very NEXT verse, God limits human dominion over the animals – we are given only plants to eat, not animals:

29. And God said, Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, on which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for food.

So, clearly from the very beginning, the meaning of ruling over the earth turns out to be not entirely carte blanche. After the flood, we were given permission to eat animals, but then it was only as a concession to human nature, and we, as Jews, were given a great many restrictions about how we could eat animals. The Torah in fact regulates not only the eating of animals, but how we treat them in our use of them in many ways. Here are a few selected examples (of many):

Animals that are working in the field must be permitted to eat freely (as are human laborers) from the field: they cannot be muzzled (Deuteronomy 25:4), we are obligated to relieve the suffering of a burdened animal – even if it’s owned by an enemy (Exodus 23:5). When animals are slaughtered, the process must be painless – if the knife contains even a small nick that might cause the slaughter to be painful, the meat is not kosher, and hunting for sport is forbidden. We are not even permitted to cause psychological pain to animals: one cannot take eggs from a nest without shooing the mother away, because she might be distressed, and it isn’t permitted to slaughter a mother along with her offspring on the same day, for the same reason.

The Spanish scholar and mystic Nachmanides (Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman 1194-1270) explains that the prohibition against slaughtering an animal and its offspring in one day is so that we should not have cruel hearts “or that the Torah should not permit us to destroy and uproot a species, even though [the Torah] permits ritual slaughter of this species. One who kills a mother [animal] and her children in one day or who takes them... it is as if he annihilates that species.”

Similarly, there are limitations to how humans are permitted to use the land. For example, during every seventh year, shmita, the land is not permitted to be cultivated: all agricultural activity—including plowing, planting, pruning and harvesting—is forbidden, and all are permitted to eat from whatever grows of itself, and this produce cannot be bought or sold. This period is called a Sabbath for the land. (Exodus 23:10-11, Leviticus 25:1-7). We are prohibited from cutting down fruit trees during time of war Deuteronomy 20:19-20– even those of an enemy city, even to actually besiege the city - because it is wantonly destructive.

From this prohibition is derived a more general prohibition called “bal tashchit” – do not waste/destroy. The late 12th century philosopher and scholar Maimonides explains further, that we are forbidden from being needlessly destructive in any way -" Whoever breaks vessels, or tears garments, or destroys a building, or clogs a well, or does away with food in a destructive manner violates the negative mitzvah of bal tashchit "you shall not destroy." (Rambam, Mishneh Torah, Laws of Kings 6:10)

The Sefer Ha-Chinuch, a thirteenth century text which explains the 613 mitzvot, focuses on the notion of training us to be ethical. “The purpose of this mitzvah is to teach us to love that which is good and worthwhile and to cling to it, so that good becomes a part of us and we will avoid all that is evil and destructive. This is the way of the righteous and those who improve society, who love peace and rejoice in the good in people and bring them close to Torah: that nothing, not even a grain of mustard, should be lost to the world, that they should regret any loss or destruction that they see, and if possible they will prevent any destruction that they can. Not so are the wicked, who are like demons, who rejoice in destruction of the world, and they are destroying themselves.” (Sefer Ha-Chinuch, Mitzvah #529).

You can see from just a brief overview that the Jewish view, far from allowing wanton waste and destruction, takes quite seriously the idea that it is our duty to treat the world with care, and furthermore, that the original statement that we have dominion over the earth is quite clearly not without restriction, but to the contrary, Jewish law is quite strong in its view that the earth is not ours to do with as we wish – rather, the earth belongs to God, “the land must not be sold beyond reclaim, for the land is Mine; you are but strangers resident with Me." (Leviticus 25:23) Our use of it is subject to our responsibilities to God, among which are our care for God’s creation. Thuis is made clear by a midrash, “"Look at My works! How beautiful and praiseworthy they are. Everything that I have created, I created for you. Take care not to damage and destroy My world, for if you damage it, there is no one to repair it after you."(Ecclesiastes Rabbah, 7:28)

At first my inclination was to answer just as my two colleagues did. Chaplains are assigned not according to faith, but by who is there at the time, and they are not supposed to proselytize, or even engage in any religion-specific activities (a Jewish chaplain can’t perform sacraments for Catholics for example). There is no bar to receiving the chaplain who is available at the time.

But then I wondered if there was something else that might be on your mind? I thought that perhaps you were expressing a worry that the patient mightchoose the non-Jewish chaplain to pray with, rather than the rabbi?

If so, there really isn’t a Jewish legal answer to this question. It strikes me that the worry here is less about whether it’s appropriate for a Jew to ask for a priest to pray with him, and more about a concern that a person might be led to become invested in another religion. That could happen, of course. It’s not too likely in a hospital, because of the structures of chaplaincy that are put in place to prevent it, as both of my colleagues mentioned. Nevertheless, the time to address this question is not when a person is in the hospital, but beforehand-and afterwards.

If I were worried about a patient in my community whom I thought was vulnerable, I would make sure that the community – not just myself- was visiting that person and supporting them. Bikkur Cholim has a lot of power, and it shouldn’t be something done just by the rabbi. In addition, I would try to find someone that I thought would be able to relate to that patient – and that might not be me. It might not even be a rabbi.

If the nature of the illness is such that the person has suddenly started seeking answers to difficult questions, simply avoiding those of other faiths will probably not prevent them from that search. What we can do, is try to make sure that the questions and answers that Judaism offers are available to them. The second is to make sure that we’re answering their questions – and not our own.

In the Talmud, tractate Megillah 7b, Rava said, “A person is obligated livsumei on Purim until they do not know the difference between ‘cursed is Haman’ and ‘blessed is Mordechai’.”Rashi comments that livsumei means “to intoxicate oneself with wine.”

I have to admit, I have always suspected that what is really going on here is Rava making a play on words from Abaye’s previous comment that “Room can always be found livsima [–for sweets].” Nevertheless, the understanding of this passage has traditionally been that Rava understands each Jew to be obligated to get intoxicated on Purim with wine because several of the key events of Purim occurred during wine drinking parties (Vashti’s refusal to attend the king, Haman’s downfall, Esther’s ascendancy).

But the passage that immediately follows Rava’s statement is part of an alternate tradition that undermines the idea that one must drink. It is a short story that tells a story of two rabbis, Rabbah and Rabbi Zera. They shared a Purim feast and became drunk. Rabbah then got up and slew Rabbi Zera. The next day, Rabbah prayed for mercy and revived Rabbah. However, the following year, when Rabbah asked Rabbi Zera to come and feast with him again, Rabbi Zera declined, saying, “Not each and every time will a miracle occur.”

This passage is cited in several places (the Ran, Baal HaMeor and the Meiri) as a refutation of Rava’s ruling, and that in fact, it is wrong to drink, although the Shulchan Aruch, the Rif and the Rambam all side with Rava’s ruling. Still, even amongst those who side with Rava, there are limitations.

First of all, Rambam and Rashi both seem to be saying that one may only drink wine to fulfill this obligation, and Rambam also (together with the Rama and several others) states that the amount of wine is only enough that one should feel sleepy and go to sleep (thus fulfilling the mitzvah of not knowing the difference between “blessed is Mordechai” and “cursed is Haman” – because one is asleep!). Others say thatthe amount one should drink is only enough to cause confusion when singing a complicated song in which there are alternating verses of “blessed is Mordechai” and “cursed is Haman,” and the tosafot say, only drunk enough to have trouble working out the gematria (mystical-numerical representations) of these words. The end result being that even among those who think that one should drink, nearly everyone agrees that we’re not talking about a great deal of alcohol, and quite a few agree that even the type of alcohol should be limited to wine.

Certainly, however, alcoholics should not drink on Purim. There are significant numbers of sources who agree that one should not drink on Purim at all, and even among those who think that one is obligated to drink something, for an alcoholic, drinking endangers their own life and those around them, which is forbidden.

Question: A friend recently lost both parents in the same week. At the funeral of the first parent he performed Kriah with a ribbon. Five days later at the second funeral not even the conservative rabbi was sure whether to tear a second ribbon or to further tear the first. In the end they decided on two ribbons. Is there correct halacha for such an instance?

At first, I took this as a very straightforward halachic (Jewish law) question of how to do something, to which there was a very straight halachic answer (Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Deah, Hilchot Kri’ah 320:21) which states that when there is a death, one performs kri’ah (tearing), and when it is followed by another death within the week, one tears again.

But then I realized that what was at stake was a slightly different question, the underlying question, which is indeed a values question: Originally, when one performed kri’ah – tearing- what one tore was one’s clothing. Over time, it has become the custom to tear, not one’s clothing, but a ribbon. This was done on the assumption that the clothing one was wearing was expensive to replace.

Today, most people attend funerals dressed in “good” clothing – what they would wear to work, rather than one’s street clothing, and it is more expensive than the sort of clothing one might wear on the street. However, in the time of the Shulchan Aruch, people might only own a few items of clothing; they made their own clothing, and clothing was expensive and laborious to produce. In some sense, the clothing might be considered to have been more valuable then. Of course, people would also mend their clothing when it became worn – or torn- and it was normal for people to wear clothing that had been mended. Today, it would be odd for anyone over the age of twelve to wear clothing that has been mended, and particularly one wouldn’t wear mended clothing to work – one would simply replace the item.

The question you ask – what to do about a ribbon which has been cut, comes because we have made the idea of kri’ah a purely symbolic act. Rather than an act of passion and grief – of rending one’s clothing in sadness at the time of hearing the news of the death and saying “Baruch Dayan Emet – blessed is the True Judge,” as we attempt to remember that God’s judgments are to be accepted- we have neatly separated ourselves from the death with a mere symbol of sadness.

What I would suggest is that we should discard this custom, and go back to actually rending our clothing. While business clothing is expensive, it is not really required for funeral clothing, especially the immediate family’s funeral clothing- to be business attire. To the contrary, we should consider wearing mourning clothing which are, while not sloppy, not necessarily the most expensive item in the closet. Rather we should consider wearing a less expensive item and actually tearing it in grief.

This would return us as mourners to people who are genuinely mourning, rather than separating us from the process of grief and the actuality of death by pinning on a mere symbol of mourning. After all, isn’t one's mother or father worth a $40 shirt?

Question: I just found out that my daughter’s teacher created a Facebook persona (another teenage girl) in order to spy on her students and make sure they weren’t doing anything inappropriate online. I am incensed, and I approached her about this. She claims there were many breaches of “tzniut” and she was just doing her job. I strongly disagree and would like to take the matter to the principal. Thoughts?

You are right to be concerned. While the teacher may have found that there were breaches of tzniut (modesty), she had no way of knowing that ahead of time. In Judaism, we have a principle of “dan l’chaf z’chut” judging people towards the likelihood of their merit. Although the teacher surely meant well and was likely trying to protect her students from making mistakes that they might regret later, she was in the wrong to assume that there would be breaches that she could trick them into revealing by pretending to be someone else. Moreover, it is unclear why the teacher thought it would be her job (as opposed to a parent’s) to be policing such breaches.

Jewish law takes the notion of privacy exceptionally seriously. There are many commentaries emphasizing how very deeply the notion of privacy is embedded in Jewish society. Rashi comments on Numbers 24, verses 2 and 5, that the reason that Balaam, the gentile prophet praises Israel, “--"How fair are your tents, O Jacob, your dwellings, O Israel" (Numbers 24:5), is specifically because in the verse just a few lines earlier, "Balaam raised his eyes and saw Israel dwelling according to its tribes," what Balaam meant was —“He saw that their entrances did not face each other, so that one should not look into his neighbor's tent.” (Talmud Bava Batra, 60a, quoted by Rashi on commentary to verse 24:2).

The Talmud in Yoma declares that one should not disclose matters from even a casual conversation without explicit permission (Talmud Yoma 4b) and Rabbeinu Gershom (early 10th century) wrote a takkanah that “one should not read one’s friend’s letter,” which seems to me to apply to even media such as Facebook.

But even more explicitly related to our case, in the Mishnah (Bava Batra) there is a concept of “hezek r’ayah” – damage caused by looking - more idiomatically, "invasion of privacy" - which forbids a person to, for example, open a door across from a door or a window across from a window. Creating a casual way of glancing in at others’ lives that they might not wish you to see is, itself, a breach of tzniut.

While Judaism does view the teacher as a very important person in a student’s life – one who helps mold the soul of the student, and so is, in some ways, as important as a parent, I would suggest that it might be appropriate for the principle to discuss with the teacher whether she should be monitoring students out of school, and what an appropriate relationship with the students might be. Certainly if the teacher has concerns about what is going on between the students – mean girl behavior, for example, or posting inappropriate pictures of themselves, the teacher should speak to the parents about her concerns. She should not however, pose as someone she is not in order to spy on her students.

THE VIEWS EXPRESSED IN ANSWERS PROVIDED HEREIN ARE THOSE OF THE INDIVIDUAL JVO PANEL MEMBERS, AND DO NOT
NECESSARILY REFLECT OR REPRESENT THE VIEWS OF THE ORTHODOX, CONSERVATIVE OR REFORM MOVEMENTS, RESPECTIVELY.